


Unbroken Millennium

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Short, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-10
Updated: 2003-01-10
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14418867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Some things break, but can they always be fixed?





	Unbroken Millennium

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Unbroken Millennium

## Unbroken Millennium

### by Caroline McKenna

Title: Unbroken Millennium  
Author: Caroline McKenna  
Spoilers: post-ep for Millennium, minor referenced to Detour, FTF, and Rain King. Rating; PG  
Summary: Sometimes things break, but can they always be fixed? Category: MSR, MT  
Feedback: Absolutely!  
Archive: Just ask, I give permission.   
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, FOX and 1013 Productions, not me. Authors Note: Special thanks to my beta, TJ for doing such a wonderful job! Happy New Year to everyone! 

*Unbroken Millennium (1/1)* 

I could think of a million better situations than this. A million ways I'd rather be celebrating the new millennium. Both Scully and I have seen enough hospitals- been patients in enough hospitals- to last us for a long time. The walls of this hospital are eerily similar to the ones of Fairfax hospital or Mercy hospital in DC. They look just like the walls of every hospital we have ever been in, all across the country. Plain, white, and sterile. I'm really getting sick of plain, white, and sterile. 

Dick Clark, the Peter Pan of today's world, is yapping away on the small television that rests in the upper corner of the waiting room. I almost laugh. Scully has to crane her neck to see it. She's so strong, I always expect her to be taller. 

"... 30 seconds now, 30. Get ready for the loudest cheering you'll ever hear in your life. Hug your friends and loved ones tight. What the heck, whoever that person is next to you. No time like the present. Are you ready? Here we go. Ten, nine ... eight, seven, six ... five, four, three, two, one ... Happy New Year, 2000!" 

Choruses of New Yorkers cheered as the ball dropped in Times Square as I contemplated Bob's words. I'm a lucky man. My friend and loved one are the same person. Who just happens to be standing next to me. 

Scully smiled up at the TV and I smiled down at Scully. She is so beautiful, so radiant standing there, watching couples kiss at "the crossroads of the world." And then she looked at me, looking at her, and I knew it was right. It was perfect. Without conscious thought, I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her soft lips, closing my eyes as we make contact. To my surprise, she doesn't pull away. This time, there are no bees, no cows, no trains, no nothing to interrupt us, not even that vicious right hook of hers. It was just us, two people, kissing in the new year. 

My heart hammered in tandem with the throbbing of my shoulder, but it felt good, it felt natural. Perfect. 

We parted slowly, and I saw her smile. An honest, genuine, personal smile that I rarely see. That smile may have been better than the kiss itself. 

Not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to fall into that awkward silence that this situation is prone to, I speak, "The world didn't end." 

I'm not sure how I meant it, really. The world didn't end, physically, as many- including my next door neighbor, Marge- thought it would. The world didn't end, like I half expected it to, because I kissed Scully. Our partnership didn't end. Our friendship didn't end. Our lives didn't end. The world didn't end. 

"No, it didn't." 

And then her face fell, becoming serious once more. She looked... disappointed. All of the sudden, panic shot through me, stabbing at my heart as though it were butter. I made a mistake, I must have, or else the frown that graces her pretty face wouldn't be there. She didn't want me to kiss her. Scully didn't want me to kiss her. The thought hits me hard, like a sledgehammer to the head. She didn't want it. I broke the millennium. 

"Happy New Year, Scully," I manage to get out, hoping that I don't sound too panicky. 

"Happy New Year, Mulder," she replies in kind, a small smile of consolation reappearing on her lips in place of the blissful smile that had been there only moments before. 

Admitting that I screwed up, I slung my good arm over her shoulder, and led her out of the hospital. My arm is telling her it's okay, we can pretend it never happened, we can go back to being partners, being friends. But my heart argued, like it has since her abduction. In my heart, there is no turning back. 

The halls of the hospital glare at me, admonishing me for my actions. Even they knew I shouldn't have kissed her. 

But it felt so damn good. 

The silence overtakes both of us as we step from the revolving doors into the crisp night air. Overhead, the stars gleamed, smiling down upon us, giving their blessing. Who am I kidding? Scully doesn't want that kind of blessing. 
    
    
            "I'll drive," she said quietly, approaching the car and shrugging my arm off of her. Not only does my partner have the key to my apartment and my heart, but she's got my car key too. She's got the original, I took the copy that I made at the hardware store.                               
            Carefully, I opened the passenger side door and stepped in, making myself comfortable in the seat. Scully got in, put the key in the ignition and cranked up the heat. Noticing that my injury prevented me from buckling my seatbelt, she wordlessly reached across my body, grabbed the belt, and fastened it. Her lips were two inches from mine. Two inches of air separated my partners soft, rosy lips from my own. Breathing in, I could almost taste them. 
    
            Though she paused for a moment, Scully didn't acknowledge our closeness, she never has. She simply pulled out of the parking lot and into the main street leading to Alexandria. 
            
            I'm willing tonight to be another one of those things that Scully and I will never talk about. It will be stored away in the file cabinet that contains Eddie Van Blundht with the silent fucking H, with Ed Jerse, Diana, our near kiss before Antarctica, the feelings that Arcadia brought up. It will be another one of those things that we ignore even thought it may be important. I really hate that file cabinet, especially when it comes time to organize it.  
             
            My shoulder hurts. It's hurt since the night nurse threw it in this sling. Dislocated shoulder, she said. Absolutely wonderful. I got strict instructions for bed-rest and to "take it easy." These people don't know me very well. They'll be lucky if I keep this stupid sling on for more than two days, let alone the two weeks that was prescribed. Scully will keep a watch on me though. I'll have to figure out how to get her to realize I'm not an invalid.
    

It hurts like a bitch. The pain is sharp, like a dozen needles embedded in my shoulder. I was afraid of needles as a kid, but look at me now. It's almost sad. Or funny, depending on how you look at it. Struggling to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable situation, I jarred my arm against the car's headrest, sending pain ricocheting through me. The medicine they gave me has my full permission to kick in any time now. Please? 

Scully sees my struggle to relax and gives me a reassuring smile that says "we'll be home soon." Maybe all is not lost. Maybe our friendship can be repaired. Maybe she doesn't totally hate me for being a horny male. 

Okay, I wasn't being horny when I kissed her. That was sincere. I thought that for once, I could be a normal man, kissing a normal woman. But things are never that simple between Scully and I. She is never just a woman, and I am never just a man. The complexity of our work and our relationship does not allow this, not matter how much I wish it did. 

"We're home, Mulder," Scully whispered to me. I assume that because my eyes were closed, she thought I was asleep. 

"'Kay, thanks for the ride, Scully," I said, opening the door and stepping out onto the pavement. 

When I fell, I'm sure the crash could have been heard all the way in Chicago where they were just now ringing in the year 2000. Last week's Christmas snow had melted and then frozen over, covering my side walk with slick ice. 

Scully's, "Oh God!" was the last thing I heard before everything went black. 

Black. Blue. Yellow. Purple. White. An array of colors greeted me as I opened my swollen eyelids. Immediately, I closed them again, in a fruitless attempt to keep the room from spinning. 

"Mulder! You're awake," Scully. My Scully, there for me. Why am I not surprised? 

"Hospital?" I croak. I feel like I've swallowed the Sahara Desert, my throat is so dry. 

"No," I could feel Scully smiling through my closed eyelids and I gave her one of my own, "You're in bed at your place. You fell, remember?" 

I remember, all right. The aching pulsing in my head was a constant reminding factor. "Water?" I said, only now getting up the stomach to open my eyes. The colors had stopped flashing and I saw one clear shape. Scully's face, inches away and her eyes focused intently on mine. 

In full doctor mode, she was checking my dilation, checking for a concussion or hemorrhage, I know, but she was looking so much deeper than the surface of my pupils. She looked into my soul like she always had when looking at me. 

She stood and I watched her move away into another room to fetch me a glass of water. 

When she returned, I accepted the tall glass, eternally grateful. "Sit up, Mulder, you'll choke if you drink it lying down," she admonished as I raised the glass to my lips, fully prepared to drink it without a second thought. 

I never realized how many muscles it takes to sit up until now, when they're sore and I'm forced to use them. With a hand on my good shoulder, Scully leaned over me, helping me up and offering me a good view of her cleavage. Just because I'm hurt doesn't mean I'm blind. 

Ignoring the pulsating ache in my muscles, I swallowed the water in two big gulps. The liquid caressed my scratchy throat, its coolness a welcome contrast to the burning heat of my body. Scully's got me wrapped up in more blankets than I think I own. I hope she didn't go out and buy some. 

"How do you feel?" she asked, sitting on the bed beside me, and running a hand over my forehead, feeling for a fever. 

"Like hell," I replied, smiling a little. 

"Well, you look like it. You should see yourself, Mulder. It looks like you went ten rounds with a cheese-grater and lost." 

"That bad, huh?" I cringe at her words and then cringe again at the pain cringing caused. 

"Yeah. You've got cuts and scrapes all over your face, and bruises just about everywhere imaginable. Your nose looks bruised, but not broken. It's swelled quite a bit though..." 

I interrupted her, "Aw! You mean my nose is bigger?" I know whining isn't very attractive, hell its a complete turn off, but a bigger nose? 

"Sorry Mulder," she sympathized, "but yes, your nose looks like a cantaloupe. I have to check you every couple of hours for a concussion. Since you went unconscious, we have to be really careful. Don't strain yourself doing anything Mulder. I mean that. If you need help, ask me. I'll be right here." 

"I know, Scully, I know." I knew, because no matter how many broken millenniums I cause, she knows I'm only human and cares about me for that. I think. We sat silently for a while, Scully stroking my hair, and me watching her. I love watching Scully. It's fascinating. She expresses everything with her face, even when she's thinking. I can see the corners of her mouth twitch when she gets a pleasant idea, or her eyebrows knit when the idea is not so pleasant. I've learned to read her like a book, like this captivating book that holds me at rapt attention. 

Her fingernails grazed a tender part of my scalp and I instantaneously tensed up. She sensed it, and looked down at me. The woman never ceases to amaze me. "Sorry, Mulder." 

"I'm sorry too," I responded, not knowing what I meant or what I would be getting myself into. 

With an expression resembling confusion, she asked, "What for?" 

I was at a loss for words. I know what I want to say, but I can't really articulate it without coming off as a total jackass. "For everything," I reply. It's broad enough where she can draw her own conclusions. 

Deep in thought, she didn't say anything, just proceeded to run her fingers through my hair. 

"Are you sorry for kissing me?" she asked after several moments. That's my Scully, always blunt. 

"I'm not sorry for kissing you, Scully, but I am sorry for making you uncomfortable by doing so." I'm really hoping for a rain check for that right hook. I don't think I could take any more pain at the moment. 

Without saying a word, she pulled my head from the pillow into her lap, "I don't wanna wrestle," I joke halfheartedly, throwing her a toothy grin, attempting to make things better. 

"Well I do." 

_What?_ Did I just hear that right? My partner, the pragmatic, scientific, enigmatic, Dr. Dana Scully wants to wrestle? With _me_? I must be hearing things. 

"You're not hearing things, Mulder," she said and I can feel her smile, "I said just what you think I said." 

"You... uh, you...?" I blubber. I was in complete shock. 

"Not now, Mulder, you are in no condition whatsoever to wrestle, but when that shoulder heals, and when you can keep yourself from falling on you face..." she trailed off, letting me imagine the rest. 

Stuttering, I said "Can I, uh, can I get that in writing?" 

Scully laughed. I love it when Scully laughs. I love it when Scully does just about anything. She could be cleaning the toilet, and I would love it. But I really love it when she laughs. 

"I don't know, Mulder. I talk better with actions." I think all the color must be draining from my face. Scully is a very eloquent speaker. She spoke wonderfully with words, I couldn't conceive what her actions would... 

She's kissed me. Dana Katherine Scully kissed me. Lord, I must have died and gone to heaven. I must be dead, and in heaven. That in itself is a miracle, but this. No, I am very much alive, as certain below-the-belt and uninjured parts of my anatomy will confirm. 

It wasn't a new years kiss either, it is the kind of kiss that can come from only one woman, the woman I love more than life, the woman that _is_ my life. Scully. She ran her tongue along my swollen top lip, begging for entrance and I granted it without a single hesitation. 

"That," she said after we had parted, both in dire need of oxygen, "is a New Years kiss." 

I smiled, agreeing with her. 

Maybe this millennium isn't as broken as I thought, but I was wrong earlier when I told Scully that the world hadn't ended. It had. The world as we both knew it ended the moment our lips touched. The world of platonic friendship, of lonely nights. That world of bees and right hooks. That world ended, but a better one began. 

**_END_**   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Caroline McKenna


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